In The Dark
by PurpleYin
Summary: The end of the week is something to look forward to, but Jess finds herself a little tied up. Written for primeval denial secret santa 2012 for stealingpennies using prompts "missing" "cold hands". Becker/Jess, Lester, very briefly Abby OC support staff characters.


**Spoilers:** Up to 5x04  
**Warnings:** language, violence, kidnap

**A/N:** My **primeval_denial** secret santa assignment fic, written for **stealingpennies**. Betaread by the very helpful **fififolle**. This has been a nice challenge to write, for a pairing I enjoy but hadn't done before and with a genre I don't tend to do either. It's even had me rolling about on a bed to see what was possible. Happy holidays. :)

* * *

Jess wriggled about, trying to get her hands in a better position. Not that sitting on a cold concrete floor had many better positions. You were meant to put your hands in your armpits when they were cold, weren't you? Fat chance of that, she thought bitterly, what with her hands tied behind her back. She couldn't feel her fingers very well anymore and it was a little hard to tell if it was the cool air or the result of the zip-tie digging in dangerously tight. She hoped it was the temperature and settled for shuffling back to the wall to press them closer to her body, awkward as it was.

She wanted to rub her arm too – the uncomfortable site of what she guessed was an injection mark for a sedative - and annoyingly couldn't, of course. The tie around her ankles bit into her skin too, though she could with some contortion adjust its position to do so less. Her memory was disturbingly blank of how she'd ended up here – she thought she'd answered her door but she hadn't the faintest idea who she'd opened it to.

Breathing out a sigh, she watched the puff of air condense in the slither of light that bathed her. The rest of the room was in darkness – the spotlight on her. If she had to make a bet she'd say a camera was too, her abductor watching her squirm. No tape over her mouth meant only one thing – no one was going to hear her here. Jess screamed bloody murder anyway, aiming for her highest pitch. She could at least try to give them a good headache, spoil the fun of her spectacle maybe.

* * *

Becker knocked on Lester's door and noted the flashed glare of displeasure looking up at him in response. This was going to be a fun Friday morning.

"Yesterday's briefing for you," he said, plonking a file down to one side of Lester's desk.

"Wonderful. Perhaps next time you can do what people in the job call 'submitting it electronically'. As you might be able to gather, I didn't pay the contracted IT company for our new system out of a generous desire to bolster the woeful economy."

"We also need approval on a new budget for weapons for the submission of large creatures."

Lester gave him a blank stare with all possible edges of annoyance present.

"I'll just give it to Lorraine, shall I?"

"_Please_ do. And while you're here, for Pete's sake spit out whatever it is you so desperately want to ask that you used those pithy excuses to come in here for."

"I was wondering if you had any idea where Jess is. It's not like her to be late."

"Quite right, which makes it even more tedious when it happens. Natascha barely cuts it as a replacement. If only we had someone here to impart a fraction of the infinite knowledge required of a competent field operator, like, say, Jess."

"So you're saying she isn't on holiday?"

"Not one I authorised and I, naturally, authorise practically everything in this place, whether I give a damn about it or not."

"Hasn't called in sick then?"

"Not a word, I'm sure it shocks you to hear."

"Very odd."

"You know what else is very odd, hmm?" said Lester, managing to glower up at him from his desk whilst paying only the merest hint of attention to him, "That you're still standing here after we've established a key member of staff is either too out of it to ring in sick _or_ 'playing hooky'. Quite apart from your unprofessional level of concern that's sickeningly apparent for Ms. Parker, your professional level of concern should dictate you, _perhaps_, go and find her as one of the many things we pay you for. Wouldn't you say?"

"Of course, sir," he agreed simply, distracted enough not to attempt to comment on Lester's jibe about his and Jess' relationship.

Becker left the room with an undue sense of foreboding. After all, it wasn't likely to be anything serious, a mistake surely, confusion about the date or off with the flu going round maybe.

* * *

Her throat was raw from her efforts to attract attention, or piss them off, at least, and neither plan was working. Jess stifled the urge to cry, She didn't know what they wanted, why her, and they showed no intention of letting her know. No ransoming. No torture. It wasn't about information or money. An inexplicable event in her life that was starting to terrify her. No one had come, no one to rescue her, no one to taunt her or even feed her. Absolutely no peep all night. She swallowed hard and tried to focus on what she could do. Trouble was, there wasn't anything. Just a blinding light on her and surrounding pitch darkness. All she had to go on were the very distant hums of the building, the internal workings behind the walls, but she was no CSI audio analysis expert and they didn't really tell her anything; they sounded generically familiar, like the ARC or any other large building.

* * *

Half an hour after leaving Lester's office Becker was further agitated. Apart from what he'd already known – that Natascha hadn't spotted Jess about, nor Lorraine, no one in ops in fact - Jess had swiped out a bit later than most people last night, no sign of her since. CCTV footage her trainee stand-in Natascha had pulled from the system showed Jess cheerfully getting into her compact car and driving offsite. There was no response on her phones, landline or mobile.

Time for recon. He signed out the copy of Jess' flat key from the security cabinet – every staff member was instructed to have one cut in case of shipping out on missions on a second's notice, enabling your stuff to get more conveniently packed up and send after you later. That was the general explanation, though concern about viral risks from other times and pandemic vectors also warranted the ability to access homes as a priority and investigate whereabouts from there if necessary. Some people refused, which meant no field ops for them, reducing their promotion potential in most cases, and others merely resented the measure as an invasion of their privacy.

Jess however had been strangely chipper when handing her key over to him, saying "Hope you don't ever have to use it," in an almost inviting way, as her fingers briefly brushed his placing it in his hand, that suggested she didn't entirely mean the words. He remembered being confused at that mixed message, but it was unsurprising as Jessica Parker very often baffled him. Things happened with them sometimes, looks shared, questionable sentences said that he wanted to know the true meaning of, but he'd found it best not to think too much on anything Jess related; he did his job, she did hers and life went on. Until she'd nearly died of anaphylactic shock and until now, with her possibly missing. Seemed like life was conspiring against his efforts to leave her alone.

He bounded up the flight of stairs, catching a presumptuous 'knowing' look from one of Jess' neighbours, a new IT guy at the ARC she was chummy with, coming down the other way at Becker who was plainly holding her door key in hand. More ammunition for the rumour mill.

In reality he'd been in her apartment only a couple of times in the past, mostly checking in on her when she'd been on sick leave. Once she'd invited him in for coffee when he'd given her a lift home from the Christmas party and had proceeded to concoct the world's most complicated drink imaginable with a hulking great shiny black machine in her kitchen, something that might have been a macchiato but hard to be sure, before falling asleep next to him on her sofa, head resting on his shoulder, without drinking her own cup.

Knocking on the door he strained to listen for any background noise to indicate she was in. The door was locked and her car had been in her parking space in the basement car park, but there were no footsteps padding about, nor music/TV blaring or sounds of running water coming from inside the flat.

Becker went to unlock the door, cautious of being perceived as an intruder – he could well imagine her fending off someone with a wok or possibly her humongous artsy phone. The door swung open with a push and he braced himself for an accusatory rant about him breaking into her home.

He counted to ten, arming himself with the Galaxy Ripple chocolate bar that was his peace offering, waiting for a reaction from within the flat. Nothing. So he strolled in through the eerily empty doorway, taking in details as he searched the rooms. The bed was a little rumpled, hard to tell if it was slept in or not, depending on how tidy Jess was with that sort of thing. The place was generally spotless though, neat, orderly, very minimalist except for dashes and splashes of bright unorthodox objects.

The single standout in all of this was the particularly full mug on the counter top. Cold, made at least an hour ago. Judging by the milky skin on top it was also not likely coffee as he'd expected, possibly hot chocolate. Not really a morning drink; Jess was keen on her coffee - uber strong, sugary and frothy - most times of day, yet he vaguely recalled her mentioning how fond she was of relaxing with a hot chocolate, an activity that was more naturally a post-work drink, to unwind after a long day.

So she wasn't present and if she'd gone anywhere she hadn't taken her car. After a quick rummage he came to the conclusion there wasn't a noticeable gap in her wardrobe either and a set of suitcases sat lined up against the wall in her spare box room. No sign of a struggle or attack but it could've been tidied up thoroughly and he'd honestly never know the difference. Becker didn't like it. In fact it seriously concerned him. It didn't add up.

He'd get an earful for it no doubt but it was definitely time to call Lester and get approval for resources for an investigation, because glancing around the stark, practically vacant rooms he had absolutely no clue where their field operator had got to. The thought filled him with a cold dread.

* * *

A clacking set of heels was all she heard as someone approached her. In the dark it wasn't possible to tell who, except to assume - possibly wrongly if they were being clever - it was a woman, who slid a tray with a plate of food and an open bottle of water towards her. The worry about what they intended to do subsided, giving way to the frustration of the degrading actions they were forcing on her – to consume food with extreme difficulty, in a manner like an animal, or starve. They clearly didn't intend to untie her or provide her with utensils.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Jess questioned, no intention of giving them anything but thinking it better to be in an informed position.

No response was forthcoming. There was a clatter of a plastic bowl thrown in her direction too, that she couldn't figure out the purpose of at first until it dawned on her it must be an ill-conceived concession to her other bodily need, a makeshift chamber pot. Lovely.

She heard a heavy door slammed, followed by a beep and clunk of an electronic locking mechanism. Finally she had an idea of what she needed to do. Get her hands free and get their ID badge. Easier said than done. Hands free would be useful in more ways than one she mused as she stared at the excuse for an English breakfast before her. First things first, she pushed her legs off from the wall and plunged herself into the unlit expanse hoping she wasn't going to hit anything unexpected. If she couldn't see them then it was at least fair if they couldn't see her anymore.

* * *

He stared at the screen in front of him, scanning over Jess' recent spending habits they'd been authorised to access. Lester hadn't said how they'd got them so rapidly and Becker wasn't inclined to ask, just grateful. Others at multiple temporary desks around the command centre sat going over other data relating to Jess. They needed to find anything unusual that could give them a clue to what she'd been up to recently and who she could have crossed paths with. The working theory, based purely on the cold mug, bandied about as 'Becker's Hot Chocolate Theory', was she'd left her flat not long after coming home, and given the abandoned drink there was the bias towards thinking of that being under potentially dubious circumstances.

Natascha was busy scurrying around between them all, taking requests for both teas and CCTV records to be pulled from local businesses. They needed all the data they could get their hands on. Something **had** to come up that would shed light on her AWOL status – she wasn't abducted officially, with nothing to prove so, but in his gut he suspected it. It simply wasn't like Jess to not check-in and he refused to believe she was any kind of mole or spy who'd up and left, even though they had to entertain the idea.

"Becker?"

He blinked as Abby waved a hand across his vision. Her brow was furrowed and the look she was giving him made him feel like she was assessing him like she did with any animal she was trying to get into the headspace of.

"We'll find her," was what she settled on saying in the end. Short and affirming, probably intended to be comforting – he didn't need comfort now though, he needed answers.

"I know that. Of course I'll find her," he replied resolutely. There was no other acceptable outcome. There never was with him. Nothing had fundamentally changed with Jess in danger. He told himself he'd do the same for anyone - which he would, it was the truth - but it didn't remove the nagging feeling it was different somehow this time, more on the line than was obvious.

* * *

She'd wondered if disappearing off their monitoring screen would send her captors racing to haul her back into the light but it hadn't happened, leaving her plenty of time to enact what she had planned.

First things first were the zip-ties, they had to go, starting with the one around her ankles, she reckoned. It didn't take long writhing on the floor, nearly wrenching her shoulders from their sockets to realise she couldn't actually reach her ankles – there was no way she could contort into a position that was helpful, which meant the hand ties were going to have to come off first after all. About the only useful thing she could do without her hands was twist her legs enough to uncross her ankles and get her legs side by side instead, providing a little more slack for stability.

She'd really been hoping to get her legs free before moving to untie her hands, making this vital part of the scheme harder than she'd expected. Still, thanks to Mrs Phipps, her chatty GCSE Physics teacher, she knew exactly what to do to break the zip-tie on her hands. However, getting up off the floor in 3-inch heels whilst your arms were behind your back and your legs were held together was tricky to say the least but if she couldn't even reach her ankles like this she had no hope of untying the ballerina style lace up ribbons keeping her heels on.

She knelt with difficulty, drawing her legs underneath her body and shifting her weight to get herself upright. Trying to get up fully from the kneel she was in she shifted herself about again to pivot backwards on her heels and raised her bent legs quickly into a stand but overbalanced as she tried to keep steady and fumbled it, falling flat on her front. Sticking her chest out as she felt gravity take over, her torso brutally took most of the impact but her cheek and jawline were still grazed as her turned face struck an unexpected metal edge. Her hands still bound she couldn't check the extent of the damage but knew it could have been a lot worse.

As she shuffled backwards to find the wall again she felt the concrete floor scuffing her knees and bit her lip. Ignore the pain, try again. Angling herself against the wall behind to her for support this time, she put pressure on her feet as she attempted to straighten her legs, with her hands walking her torso up the wall in tandem. Finally straightened out, she tentatively leant forward, pushing away from her resting place against the wall with her hands, to stand up properly. Predictably she wobbled without an easy method to balance herself, fortunately managing to find her footing eventually.

She sidled several steps away from the wall very gradually, unhappy to leave its safety, but it was necessary – she needed adequate range for this next strategy. It had sounded like a neat party trick when she'd learnt about it and she really wished she'd followed up on that idea and practised at least once. Hearing how to do it was one thing, doing it was another and Jess hoped it really was just a matter of physics and not brute strength like everyone in her class had first assumed.

She bent her body at the knees, leaning forward too, and raised her arms as far up as possible in the air behind her, bringing them down sharply, widening her elbows at the same time in order for her arms to pass her sides, maxing out the motion for as much shock as possible to be applied to the plastic.

Jess inadvertently yelped as the plastic instead dug further into her skin and wobbled on her heels as the agony caught her unexpectedly. Years of teetering about in high heels, including nights out having a few drinks, made for good equilibrium and considering her starting point of a firm footing she just about managed to avoid a repeat setback like when she'd wanted to get up initially. That didn't stop the tears escaping her eyes though. She blinked them away as inconsequential and got back into the position. She knew it ought to work, it had to work, so she drummed up enough courage to do it again, touching her shoulder blades closer in an effort to lift her arms further into the air.

And again, and again if necessary she told herself. No pain, no gain; it was the phrase Becker liked to spout whenever she saw him in the gym running on the treadmill as if for his life, practising for when it probably would be the case. She never liked to think about that too much herself and at the very least it never seemed like something that had applied to her, safely ensconced in the ARC where she'd been pretty cosy until the thing with the bugs had come up, and now this. Obviously sometimes Becker's cynicism was right, though she doubted he would like being told that considering the circumstances that had brought her to the conclusion. He would, however, like to hear her say it, she was sure, if he had any notion she was missing, and she was going to ensure she got the chance to tell him even if she was going to nearly slit her wrists getting out of this. Jess Parker was not being defeated by a stupid piece of plastic no matter how much it hurt.

* * *

To his right Natascha sighed and he heard her stomach grumbling clear as day. He checked his watch, they'd been at it nonstop since a bit before noon and it was heading into evening, past what could be considered home time on any normal non-Anomaly day.

"You should take a break Natascha, get some food in you."

"Thanks," she said pushing her chair back enough that he wondered if she was going to topple off the platform for the ops station but didn't quite.

"You should take your own advice, Captain. You've been working as long as I have, never too far away from here."

"I'm fine and what I, we, need is to make sure that's what Jess is too."

Natascha studied him for a moment, making him think she was going to call him out and insist on him stopping too, but she merely smiled tightly, accepting his choice to stay.

She picked up her bag from under the desk and turned to him again.

"I'll get you a beef chow mein, shall I? Wait, no, that's not even a question," Natascha said playfully, stepping down carefully in her rather high shoes – it was one of the few traits her and Jess shared, as he wasn't sure anyone thought Natascha especially competent so far, but Jess assured people the girl was capable and simply needed a little time to get into the flow of the ARC protocols.

Slightly unbalanced she stumbled a tad despite her care, reaching out to his shoulder to stabilise herself, and continued her train of thought casually, leaning in.

"I already know that's what you always have, she wouldn't let me forget it after that first time I stuffed up the order."

He smiled grimly at the reminder of how he'd been forced to share Connor's larger than average orders of soggy 'crispy' chilli beef and garlic rice. As Natascha walked off, he half-heartedly replied not particularly for her benefit, "Jess knows me well."

* * *

A number of people at work had ribbed her about her impractical nails in recent days. It wasn't like she had talons or anything, but the ridicule it had got her was practically as much as if she had. They wouldn't be laughing when she told them what use she put her nicely pointed nails to, mind you, a bitten off shard being good enough to catch back the locking mechanism on the zip-tie and shimmy out of the one around her ankles, kicking it off into whatever expanse was out there in the apparently large room she was in.

She'd tentatively nabbed the tray of food first, sliding it out of view and scoffing the sausage and bacon hungrily. Hazarding the fried egg with her fingers too she found it handily overdone and easy to deal with without much mess. With her fuel for God knows how long until they fed her next consumed, she had set about figuring out her boundaries.

About five minutes in, she'd sensibly removed her ribbon-tied wedge heels and stashed them to one side of the beam of light – without one of her senses she was at a disadvantage, wandering blind, and she really didn't need to crash into anything in the dark and fall those extra few inches if she could help it.

Jess had then spent what felt like a whole day exploring the confines of the isolated location. At some point she noticed the room had warmed somewhat, like the building's heating was on so probably on a timer for the day hours.

The metal object she'd hit appeared to be some kind of metal shelving, and edging along the side of the wall she found more, all empty and, upon further investigation, bumping into more less than a metre away, they were arranged row on row expanding out. Definitely a store room of some kind. The fact they weren't used didn't make it seem too likely anyone was going to accidentally free her from here sadly but she did have a much better idea of the layout as she felt along the outskirts of the room.

Eventually the door came into her sights, marginally lit by the little red light on the security box once the shelves weren't obscuring her view. She tugged on it just in case but predictably the door had not shifted any. Securely locked as expected.

She knew from experience at the ARC that there was little chance of hacking devices like it, not without a tool set and something else electrical. Whoever they were had removed anything useful for that proving they weren't complete morons. The zip-tie restraints had been their one failing so far, an important one Jess was sure and she had an idea of what to do to turn the darkness into their second failing.

She navigated to the lit area, carefully staying out of it as she laid her trap. That done she laid down on the floor, holding her hands crossed behind her back to simulate being tied still and shuffled back into the beam almost entirely, only her ankles and feet not shown to disguise her escape.

* * *

He knew Lester was standing tall behind him several seconds before he said anything, allowing him not to be startled as the man most likely desired.

"Go home."

"I'm rather busy if you hadn't noticed, sir," he responded smoothly, never taking his eyes from the screen.

"Becker, I said go home. Get some beauty sleep or something. Captain Grears and her night shift team have this covered. Or don't you trust the people you handpicked to do as well as you, because if so, you haven't been doing that aspect of _your _job correctly."

"I said I'm busy, they can always do with the extra eyes and as for the sleep..."

"Which you_ need,_ go home," Lester said, heading more into exasperation than the commanding tone he had started the conversation in.

"...no."

"By which you mean?" prompted Lester, clearly searching for the revised answer of yes. As if that was going to work on him. Security needs came first, Lester wasn't the only person he had a responsibility to.

"No, thank you, James," he said in a clipped tone.

He heard a distinct sucking in of breath upon the last word uttered, through nostrils if he cared to guess.

"I think you're mistaking that for a request,_ Hilary_. If you prefer I can order some of the other Captain's dutiful team to confiscate your ID," Lester squared up, drawing his hands behind his back imperiously as two security personnel came to flank him on cue, "I think you'll find under your own security protocol of 'no personnel can be onsite without ID' this will lead to you being escorted from the premises."

Becker wordlessly withdrew from the desk and walked briskly away from the confrontation. He could push it further, but he knew he'd lose and that would help no one.

In the back of his mind he also wondered what Lester's departing remarks would be in that situation – he'd fight as hard for any member of staff, but it was different with Jess somehow and, by the looks on their faces when they glanced at him during this crisis, everyone knew it. Lester was one of the few who might actually say what Becker wanted to avoid admitting – until someone said something it was easier to ignore, not real, plausibly deniable as long as no one asked him to deny what he couldn't.

Sleep wasn't the worst idea - at least asleep he wouldn't consciously agonise over how useless he'd been - but Jess was still missing and it was hard to picture him being able to get any rest in this situation. Lester needed to think he'd won though, so he packed up his gear, making no effort to stifle his yawns, and left the ARC.

* * *

She waited patiently for a good while, keeping her mind on anything except what she might have to do soon. Fighting wasn't so much her, she'd had no need. Now it was survival, her survival depended on it and would she be able to do it when it came down to it? Staying alert was paramount. As the room grew colder signalling night time approaching she sorely wished she could drop the ruse and curl up to stay warm, but she had a plan and she'd see it through.

Finally she heard the telltale beep of the door and the set of heels accompanied by another person, whispering none too successfully as they approached, and she closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

"We've got to move her, alright, it isn't safe here," the guy spoke out, a tinge of nervousness apparent.

"So they're looking, so what, they'll never think to look here in a million years," the woman was plenty cocky. Jess dearly hoped she was walking ahead of the guy, she wanted to see the smile wiped off her face any second now.

"I'm serious, if we don't move her now we won't be able to. They'll tighten security if they get any hint she might be here."

The question was where was here? If either of them was going to let it slip in the conversation, it sounded like he would, so she let them continue to think she wasn't listening, faking REM in case they were paying any heed to her.

"And where are they going to get that hint from, huh? There's nothing to tie her disappearance to us as long as you stop being so twitchy."

As they closed on her she could hear more clearly. Though their attempt to be quiet resulted in hushed semi-distorted voices, there were hints of the familiar to the persons she couldn't figure out.

"You think you're so good at this, don't you? Guess I should point out that we haven't achieved the goal yet," he replied angrily and louder than he ought to. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognised the more normal pitch of the voice.

"I don't control anomalies, Mark. We just have to soldier on and an opportunity will crop up."

The name alone wouldn't have meant anything, being so common, but matched with the mistake he'd made of speaking up she knew who he was and that went some way to explaining how she'd been fooled and abducted. Of course she'd open her door to a neighbour, who happened to be a work colleague she'd recommended her apartment building to, and someone she'd begun to call a friend. What she didn't understand was what reason did a mild mannered IT technician have to kidnap her of all people? And who was the woman helping him? Familiar as well, a girlfriend or friend of his she'd have seen on the stairs, perhaps. It made no more sense to her whatever the answer was.

"I still think we should get her out of here. Now's the best time, he's not here and everyone else is too busy looking elsewhere."

"Look, will you drop i-"

The shoe dropped. Or more exactly, her well-heeled captor tripped spectacularly over the tray and plate placed on route to her previously assumed spot just out of the spotlight. Heel snapping awkwardly, the woman sprawled into the scene, landing on the hard floor as brutally as Jess had earlier, legs askew and ruffled dark brown hair hanging limp over her head. Mark didn't go to help, seeking to retain his anonymity in the shadows.

Jess watched silently. There was a splutter and cough, with what look starkly like blood spat on the concrete by the woman. She raised her head revealing a bloodstained split lip and Jess couldn't stop herself from exclaiming in disbelief.

"Oh my God, you?!"

* * *

4am was not an hour Becker saw that often. Normally he slept like a log when not on a mission. This situation wasn't a mission precisely, not by work standards, but by his it was. He'd managed three hours of fitful sleep with the aid of a sleeping tablet he was loath to take. Not quite the beauty sleep Lester had suggested, but it was enough for him and long enough to evade Lester who would have importantly long since left for his own bedtime.

Captain Grears was stalwart in her duties, as were her people, but if there was one other thing she could be depended on for it was taking, and indeed enforcing her team to take, a tea break routinely when at the ARC on non-critical matters. He didn't like to categorise Jess' absence as non-critical but the fact of the matter was it wasn't the end of the world, only the world as he knew it. As Lester had happily reminded him, people did work better with rest and it was a sensible move for them to have a friendly break in the canteen for ten minutes, chat about their leads and maybe shake up new theories.

That meant he had about nine minutes left to come up with a convincing enough argument for her not to throw him out on his arse as Lester presumably had left orders to do to him should he show up.

Time to start from the beginning. They must be missing something. He logged in successfully, pleased to see Jess hadn't yet taught Natascha about time-restricted staff logins, and glanced over the ID access logs to double check his estimate for when Grears and co had checked into the corridor near the canteen. As he glanced down the fairly short list of people in he saw both Lester and Natascha were around still. Lester he'd been lucky to avoid, parked for the last four hours in a conference room off the main corridor for an enigmatic reason that he would likely refuse to acknowledge as sleep, if he'd even acknowledge being present tonight as the hunt for Jess continued. Natascha however was in sub-basement 4, which was unusual. Most of the basement levels weren't used, a throwback to the building's old purpose before they'd inherited and revamped it.

He supposed she might be fond of Jess too, having been inducted by her. He couldn't think of anyone here who didn't like Jess, though some people like Lester protested it, claiming her far too perky for the mornings. Still, being concerned didn't explain why Natascha was in a basement storage room, and bringing up building blueprints and logs he saw it was a currently unused storage room – it had minimal power to it and unlike the nearby rooms, which were storing assorted specialised equipment people might access once in a blue moon with equally special approval, it had no heating. Slightly more energy was being used than he'd have thought necessary for base functions operating. There was a simple solution for this mystery, he thought, feeling like he was wasting precious time but unable to drop the topic.

He brought up the CCTV feed system and browsed for the camera. No luck. That room had none listed. The power usage seemed consistent, if a little higher, for CCTV as operational, and he'd fully expected there to be a feed accessible. He knew his way around the systems well enough to know a trick or two about figuring out CCTV feed direct links after Danny had subverted the system on occasion to prove a point about their security. They'd fixed every workaround they'd found but that wasn't to say there's weren't others or something as simple as a bug, a config file for that floor that was faulty and never checked. Whatever the case, it ought to be there and he was intent on seeing what it showed.

Becker opened a feed from the adjacent corridor, noting the door to the storage room was wide open, and edited the program's feed url. He pressed enter and watched a confusing picture revealed. The black and white image showed Natascha, back to the camera towering over someone else sat down, legs to one side. As she circled a foot to her right, he could see the other person was a woman, wearing a skirt with gigantic polka dots on. Jumping to conclusions wasn't smart but Becker was 99% confident that was Jess; there wasn't another woman at the ARC half as bold as Jess when it came to fashion. He didn't know what had led Natascha down there or whether the camera feed was purposefully obstructed, neither could be known with him on this end.

Jess was there and he was here, and that needed to change pronto. He broke into a run, radioing his discovery in before he hit the stairwell and temporarily lost his breath.

"Grears, Becker. Suspected Jess sighting. Heading to sub-basement 4, storage room 5J. Requesting backup and medics stat."

He'd already tackled two floors-worth of stairs with the aid of mantling over the railings when Grears replied.

"Becker, Grears. What the hell are you doing here? And what do you mean "Jess sighting"? Here in the ARC?"

He neglected to respond as he focussed on speed and Grears didn't ask twice, she already had as much information as he had and she'd get it.

"Becker, Grears. Request confirmed. We're heading to your target. Lift are down for maintenance, ETA six minutes."

Becker skidded towards the exit to the stairwell, slamming into it ungracefully - creating another bruise he'd regret to match the strain on his ankle from landing on the stairs repeatedly - but pulling back quickly to yank the door open. He took a deep breath as he faced the entrance to the sub-basement. There were another four floors to go via the midsection stairwell aligned with the service lift and it was like a maze in here. It had to be his least favourite part of the ARC and an awful time to get tested on his knowledge of the layout in this Civil Service version of limbo. A time like this was when he needed Jess, when he depended on her without hesitation, and here she was depending on him to get it right. The sickening fear of failure rose inside him. He squashed it and ran ahead, going over the turns he'd have to take to get to her in his head.

* * *

"Why?"

Jess sat on the floor, playing the passive victim whilst her blood boiled in her veins. Natascha laughed callously at her for the second time as she sat level with Jess, checking over her wounds.

"Do you even care? If I told you, would you forgive me? Scratch that, I don't want your forgiveness. I'm doing what I had to."

"Did they blackmail you? Some foreign agency coerce you to spy on us? I don't get it, why me? If you want to replace me why am I alive?"

"Don't you think that's tempting fate, asking that of all things?" Natascha asked deadpan, as she got up unsteadily. She stood towering over her momentarily rather like she enjoyed being in the position of power, and knowledge, for the first time in weeks.

"Oh, don't fret," she said, moving to Jess' left to feel for her shoe on the floor in amongst the scattered objects near the spotlight, "We were never going to kill you. Just needed you out of the way. Still do in fact."

"What are you going to do, sabotage the ARC? People will die, you know."

Natascha's face darkened at the mention of death, suddenly indignant and she paused her search.

"People already have. You should know. You've seen it. I've seen it."

"I know. Sometimes they do. We try our best -"

"Not exactly good enough, is it Jess?" she interrupted, "With this rag tag team, a government project that got shutdown in the past and only resurrected with an injection of private funds."

"Hang on, **we** haven't seen anyone die, not during training. You can't have seen -"

"Ah, yes, there's the crux of it, sweetie," Natascha sniped, getting up to stand over her. "When I got this job it wasn't so much of a surprise to hear about your friendly neighbourhood dinosaurs rampaging, or them being less than friendly a good proportion of the time."

"But...but, you didn't – I mean, you nearly threw up when we told you and showed you the video of the pens. It was bizarre, Lester got cold feet when he heard about that. I had to convince him it was...okay, a normal reaction. I thought maybe it was, though usually people laugh or faint instead. You seemed so surprised."

"I know. Got you good with my performance. I wasn't sure you'd buy it. You did read my CV, wondered if you'd think anything of that A* in drama."

Natascha slipped off her remaining shoe, and threw it to one side.

"Enough chit chat, I suppose we're going to have to transfer you if you're going to make trouble." She glanced back towards Mark. "Get the trolley will you?"

As Mark walked off to do as instructed, Jess asked solemnly, "You knew someone who was killed by a creature, didn't you? That's how you know."

"Well done, Jess. Full marks. Doesn't help you one bit though, so how about you pipe down?"

"Tell me. What are you going to do and why are you doing it, if you don't want people to die?"

Natascha walked right up to her, replying bowed over as if confiding in her.

"It's what I'm not going to do, Jess. Your job, or rather, my job now. One decent mistake and the truth will be out. Do you truly believe secrecy helps any of them? If the public knew there would be pressure to provide a **real** measure against those _things_. If the public knew they could protect themselves, they'd be informed of the dangers they're oblivious to. Knowledge would arm them and they'd at least have a chance. Our friend Michael didn't have that. It isn't fair or ethical to let people think they're safe when they're not and walking into the unknown."

Natascha's hand went to the oversized pocket on her jacket, the outline inside as she grasped it ready suggested something pointy. They were going to sedate her again. It was now or never. Jess held her head high, staring into Natascha's eyes defiantly.

"Natascha. No one's _ever _safe."

There was a flicker of confusion on the trainee field operator's expression, which Jess grinned at as she struck out wildly with her first ever right hook. The blow connected and Jess cursed as her fist immediately throbbed as a consequence. Natascha was thrown off balance, cradling her head and Jess could hear the squeaking of a trolley wheeled between the aisles as Mark returned. She acted fast, rummaging in Natascha's left pocket, roughly swatting away the attempts to block her efforts and before the woman could protest properly she had the needle out, unsheathed and jammed in the woman's thigh. A few seconds after she'd depressed the contents into her, Natascha was sliding down the wall mumbling incoherently. One dealt with, one to go.

Jess wanted to believe she could reason with Mark, talk him out of this nonsense. It could work. She'd already been proven a fool once with Natascha though, and it would be a risk to try. She counted as he approached, waiting to witness his reaction when he saw what had gone on.

"What the?"

When she determined he was running towards her, and not away like she'd hoped he'd have the sense to, Jess grabbed one of her stashed wedge shoes, gripping the silk ribbon tight and swung. She felt a pang of guilt as she let go. She'd been a dab hand at hammer throwing at school. There was a thwack in the distance and a clang of a trolley hitting something else metallic, probably the shelf, that keyed her into her victory.

That was when the main lights clicked on, and an out of breath Becker sprang around the row, bemusedly surveying the damage.

"Yo...you...did...this?" he asked, panting, bracing his arms on his upper legs in a semi-squat to slow his breathing.

Jess stood where she was and nodded.

"You...you're... bloody impressive...for...your..size."

"Hey!" she protested.

He was still struggling to regain his breath, but he jogged over to Mark, feeling for a pulse.

"He'll live."

"She's sedated and if it's the same drug they used on me to get me here I'll wager she won't wake up anytime soon."

Becker walked right past her, double checking on Natascha despite what she'd told him. Honestly, that man was barely ever satisfied unless he'd done a task or checked whatever it was. Usually he trusted her judgement but he wasn't taking any chances here. She knew what his problem was, he wanted to feel in control, he had to know for himself. Sometimes she felt that too when she knew lives were at stake – it was make or break, you didn't want to waste time but you had to be sure, to rely on your information.

Once he was satisfied everything was under control he came over to her and gave her a once over, scanning her appearance, eyes lingering in turn on each of her injuries, minor as they were, and resting on her own.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he gazed at her.

There was the truth and then there was the truthful but pitiful comic relief option. Becker was looking at her so seriously she opted for the latter as preferable, to diffuse the tension.

"Hell of a day. Glad it's the weekend already. It is Friday, isn't it?"

"Technically it's Saturday by now, but same difference," he said with a brief smile, and that was more like it. However, it was quickly replaced by stern professionalism as he updated his personnel and simultaneously escorted her out of the room.

"Grears, this is Becker. Jess confirmed safe and sound, kidnapping suspects subdued. Backup and medics still required. Medics will be mostly for the suspects."

She couldn't tell what Grears said in response without her confiscated comm, but she'd bet the night shift Captain had queried his methods as Becker defensively countered with, "Me? You should be asking Jess that. I didn't touch anyone. Speaking of which, get someone to lock credentials for Natascha Travers and Mark Farr. They're not likely to go anywhere the state they're in, thanks to Jess, but we don't want to take any chances".

As they stepped out into the corridor Becker went to close the security door, sealing the others present in, and Jess was simply relieved to be on the right side of it today.

"The medics will be a few minutes and," he said, switching to mock seriousness as he fished about in the various pockets of his fatigues, "in the meantime it's my extremely non-medical but very important recommendation that you have a dose of emergency ration chocolate."

* * *

Jess peered at the chocolate bar he tried to place in her hand, not taking it from him very quickly, causing his hand to hover over hers, uncertain if she might drop it.

"You're an unusual one, Becker, you know that? Most men I'd be tongue-in-cheek accusing of trying to get me drunk at a party or something to get to know me better, but you... I don't think I can say 'are you trying to fatten me up?' with the same sort of casual panache."

She stepped closer, encroaching on his personal space more than he'd tend to let any colleague and definitely more than he would choose of her especially, looking to move in for a hug that he wasn't sure he should deny in this case but then she did something totally unexpected.

"Jessica, why are your hands in my armpits?" he asked petulantly, though not removing her from his person. He didn't ask why her head was suddenly resting on his shoulder, too.

"They're freezing."

"What's wrong with your own armpits?"

"More effective. Men have on average a higher body temperature. Don't worry, the medics are on their way, aren't they?"

"Any minute now."

"So I suppose yo-you'll indulge me for a little while longer then?" she said, teeth chattering a bit.

"It would be impolite not to," he replied, drawing his arm around her and kicking himself mentally for not bringing a first aid kit and blanket with him. He was broken out of his reflections by awareness that Jess was staring up at him, wide-eyed. She withdrew one of her hands and he found it reaching up, her fingers drawing his head down as her own came up to meet his and she kissed him on the lips. Just a few seconds of contact initiated by Jess, her lips fully on his, that he hadn't stopped happening, he didn't know what to make of it, really.

"You're in shock," he said plainly, as if explaining it to himself. That made sense. She was relieved to be free, grateful to see a friendly face.

That statement prompted Jess to laugh in said friendly face, "Am I really? _I'm_ in shock. I guess I should make the most of it then."

Before he knew it she was pulling him to her again, and he wan't rejecting it, his own lips patient, waiting, accepting as she teased at them this time and he felt his resolve to resist dissolving with each passing moment.

There was a brief loud clearing of a throat before their boss interrupted them. "Hardly what I'd call professional conduct," sniped an indistinctly disheveled Lester from the distance as he, the medics and other security personnel swarmed around the corner into the section of corridor they were in. Becker hadn't heard the footsteps approaching, distracted as he'd been.

Jess mostly broke away from their sort of embrace and turned to the approaching Lester, whilst Becker attempted to avoid eye contact with him and yet regain some stoicism to ward off the embarrassment felt.

"Neither is kidnap and conspiracy to expose the Anomaly Project," Jess posed to Lester, as the medics detached her from himself, wrapping her in a blanket and checking her over. Becker suddenly missed the warmth, stolen from him in the first place as it had been, that had emanated from the one hand of hers remaining comfortingly on his bicep for less than a minute. It was foolish and he preferred to refocus on the situation at hand, moving off to the side to fill in his men on where the perpetrators were inside the storage room.

"Was that what this was about?" he heard Lester reply dryly. "How droll. I doubt we needed any help there, given enough time, someone's incompetence here would no doubt achieve that goal."

"I think you might want to have a word with Natascha about that when she wakes up. Everything else pales in comparison, don't you agree?"

Lester shrugged and looked away as Jess maintained her recalcitrant pose.

"I came to see what state you were in, but since you're obviously fine and Becker has the situation in hand, in more ways than one no less, then I'll get back to important matters."

He glanced back up at Jess as Lester stalked away; she was actually smirking, on the verge of a giggle in between the questions the medics were asking her. Maybe he couldn't blame the kiss on shock, that was a stretch, but he was pretty sure that didn't preclude it being a thing she was suffering from. Even the two skeleton crew night-shift medics were giving her funny looks.

"Everything good?" he asked them as he walked over to her.

Receiving an affirmative nod, the attending medic, Lara, finished off taping on the dressing for Jess' graze on her cheek and confirmed, "Nothing a good rest, plus food and fluids won't fix."

"Now might be a good time to eat your chocolate, Jessica," he said, placing a guiding hand in the small of her back over the top of the blanket she'd been given, knowing it would be best to get her to the rec room for a sit down. With nothing seriously up with her he wanted to avoid her coming into contact with Natascha and Mark whom the medics were now moving to attend to in the nearby room and would want to shortly move to the med bay.

"Yes, sir," Jess replied with a roll of the eyes, tearing open the wrapper as she walked along – he noted the shaking in her hands as she did so. She was acting like nothing was wrong, trying to be tough and hiding it by joking and laughing it away.

"What you've been through is an ordeal, it's fine if...if you're not fine."

"But I am fine."

He raised an eyebrow, which she spotted.

"No, really, I am. Not wonderful. It's not my favourite few days of my life, but...I'm alive. I've still got all my limbs. Could've been worse."

He scowled at the reminder of the scenarios he'd played through his mind, of those worst cases he'd imagined, each escalating from the last – he'd seen too many horrific things in his lifetime and he'd prepared himself for anything despite the torture it was.

Jess seemed to take his silence as doubt, babbling on in an effort to reassure all was well.

"I'm fine, honestly. I did deck Natascha as well, and she'll get her comeuppance with Lester alone, never mind the law. How's that for resolution, hey?"

"Not bad," he said, failing to put enthusiasm behind it.

A few strides later his hand slipped from its resting place on Jess' back, as she'd stopped abruptly in the middle of the corridor. He doubled back to find her arms crossed, frowning at him.

"Why do I get the feeling this is more me comforting you than the other way round?"

"I...I was just worried about you."

"Worried another person would die on your watch, huh?"

"Yes. Well, not simply that. I don't want to imply that you-," he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence when the sentiment was so hard to express adequately and appropriately.

"What happened to 'just worried' about me?"

"You're not just a random person to me," he said, reaching out to place his hands on her shoulders, "What I mean to say is...you're part of the team,"

"I see," she said, looking crestfallen at the second part of his admission. "Thanks. That's nice," though it sounded like it was far from appreciated. "Of course I feel like a fool now, because I kissed you, and you don't..." her voice cracked and she looked down at the floor, "-must've got the wrong idea. Not that you stopped me, but -"

"Jess."

She glanced up, eyes watery and he swallowed uncomfortably, knowing she'd been in relatively good spirits minutes ago and this, this was his doing.

Getting involved was dangerous, you got attached, you got hurt. Remaining detached hadn't prevented that like he'd hope, though, and was it worth forsaking the goodness if you couldn't avoid the pain? He'd lost a lot of friends to death but losing someone to his stubborn stupidity of keeping them at arm's length wasn't any less choking in the end. How could he let her believe the lie he kept telling himself when he would never do so? The difference was she would accept it and she'd move on to someone else and he would be left with only himself, and only himself to blame.

He leaned in until he could feel her hot breath on his skin and finally willingly closed the gap he'd cultivated for almost two years. She responded after a moment of disbelief, opening her mouth to his; she tasted like chocolate and now he'd never taste it without thinking of this moment. He poured his passion into the kiss, everything he had held back bursting forward. He wanted to erase any doubt in her mind about his feelings for her. What they were precisely he could examine later, but they existed and had for some time, there was no denying it when it came down to it. They both deserved the truth, he'd held it hostage for too long.

"I hope you'll be driving me home," she said as they broke apart for a breather and continued towards the upper levels.

"Whatever you want."

"Maybe you could come in for coffee?" she asked suggestively, her arm hooked around his gently squeezing the arm she clasped and pulling him a touch closer.

"Forgive me if I'm not keen to, not after last time. Took a while to concoct, to put it mildly," he said coming to a stop, pressing the call button for the lifts Grears had informed him on the comms were operational again.

"Oh, um, sorry... Wasn't it worth the wait though?"

He let the question hang as the doors to the lift opened and he stepped inside promptly, selecting the central floor on the panel. Jess looked a little perplexed for once.

"I didn't say I wouldn't come in, you know, if you want that -"

Jess smiled brightly at his explanation and got in the lift herself, leaving them side by side. As the doors closed she took his hand in hers silently and he turned to her, not quite done explaining.

" -and last time, just so you know, it wasn't the the coffee I was waiting for."


End file.
